by Kit Hallows
“She a friend?” Ebomee asked.
Roooaaaaarrrrrr!
The wyvern spiraled over the wall, its blinding fire flooding the entire level with light. It hovered for a moment, distracting me as Ebomee dropped her rifle, shoved Astrid back and pulled a pistol from her jacket. Before I could fire it was held tight against the side of Astrid’s head.
“Put the gun down, Morgan,” Ebomee said.
“You know I won’t.”
“Shoot the bitch,” Astrid cried, her voice furious.
Ebomee smiled. “Seems we’re at an impasse.”
The wyvern crackled, its heat intensifying as it began to swoop in toward the garage. I kept my sights on Ebomee and ducked behind a car as I waited for the fiery beast to soar past. “We’re not at an impasse,” I called. “I’ll shoot. You might get one round off, or maybe you won’t. You’ve been careless once more. You forgot about my friends in the street.”
Ebomee hooked her arm around Astrid and began to inch away from the wall. I took my shot. It clipped her shoulder, and her gun fell to the ground. Astrid sprang free and seized it.
“Fuck!” Ebomee clapped a hand to her shoulder, her face creased with pain.
“I’ll call this in and get you some help once I’ve dealt with the wyvern and its creator,” I said.
“And why are you sparing me?”
“You saved my hide once, don't you remember?” I said. It had happened on one of my very first jobs with the Organization, and I’d never forgotten it.
“I only did that because I’d have been down a gun if you’d died.”
“I don’t believe that,” I said. “You’re about the only agent I ever had any respect for.”
“Why?” Ebomee asked, and looked genuinely puzzled.
“Because I knew you had respect for me.”
“You're delusional, I was willing and fully prepared to blow out your brains not five minutes ago. And I'd still do it, given the chance.”
“Sound like you’re trying to convince me to shoot?” I asked.
“Maybe I am.”
“Why?”
She sighed. She looked tired. Finished. “Because I’d prefer a quick end to a slow one. It was made crystal clear to me that if I didn’t bag you tonight, I’d suffer. And so would my husband.”
“Who put you up to it? Who threatened you? Humble? Lampton?”
“Give it up, Morgan,” Ebomee said. “It’s over.”
“What’s over?”
“Everything. The die is cast, there’s going to be countless numbers of us passing into the night. Things won't ever be the way they were, not now. Not for us.” She gave a tired, bittersweet smile.
“I’m not giving in,” I said. “Never.”
“And that’s where you and I differ.” Ebomee reached into her jacket.
I fired. The round hit her in the chest and her hand fell from her coat as she collapsed. It was empty.
44
“Ladies, gentlemen,” Samuel said as he appeared on the top floor of the garage. He glanced from Astrid to me, and then to Ebomee, before adjusting his tone. “You okay?”
“I guess.” I wasn’t okay. Not by a long shot. Ebomee and I hadn’t exactly been buddies, but I’d never felt an enmity between us either. And I was pretty sure she hadn’t been very happy with being assigned to take me out, not like Rhymes would have been. I glanced into the sky as the wyvern circled above us. “That thing’s got to go.”
“Yeah,” Samuel said, “it’s giving me a headache.”
“Then let’s do this.” I picked up Ebomee’s rifle, adjusted the scope and peered over the wall. Haskins was still taking cover behind the limo and as he spotted me he raised his gun my way. I lowered the rifle, waved and watched as his diminutive figure gave a single wave in return. I peered back through the scope and swept it over the auction house roof.
“So what’s the plan?” Samuel asked.
I nodded to the auction house roof across the way. “If we can reach the roof, we might have the element of surprise. Do you have any means of getting up there?”
“Yes,” Samuel said. “Climbing and hoping for the best.”
“Without that thing spotting us,” Astrid nodded to the wyvern. “Maybe you can go to the street and draw it away from us.”
“Good plan,” Samuel said, “leave us to climb in darkness. That way no one will see our embarrassment as we plunge to our certain deaths.”
“Try not to die,” I said. “Once you’re up there, there should be access to the building below, a door or a hatch. Haskins and I can work our way up from the ground floor. Between us we should be able to take them out and meet up with you somewhere in the middle.”
“And what’s our endgame exactly?” Samuel asked. “Aside from killing the baddies?”
“The magician, we need to find out what he knows about Endersley. But be careful, he has hostages, we’ll have to move in l-”
“Like shadows. Or mice. Or shadow mice,” Samuel said. “We’ll disguise ourselves. It probably won’t work on the magician but it should fool his thugs. Just as long as they’re blinkered.”
“Good,” I said.
“How do you want to appear?” Astrid asked.
“Black clothes, boots, shaven head, feral and then just hit me with the ugly stick a few times and I should blend right in with the hired muscle.”
“Your wish is my command.” Samuel whispered as he placed his hands on my shoulders.
The air shifted, and a static like sensation swept over my clothes and hair. I peered down and caught a glimpse of the illusion. “Great,” I said, “I’ll see you on the inside.”
“Not if we see you first, dog face.” Samuel strode away across the rooftop.
“Take care,” Astrid called as she followed him.
I headed back down the stairwell and out to the street. The wyvern wheeled above me and began to hover, as if it were trying to read me or see past my disguise. I strolled along the sidewalk like I owned it, gun in hand, an exaggerated swagger in my step. The wyvern flew down and flapped its fiery wings above me and its blazing ember-eyes bore into mine. I glanced up like it was of no concern and continued on my way. The wyvern watched for a moment, and then a warm breeze from its wings brushed my face as it turned and flew back into the sky. It appeared it wasn’t just the blinkereds that could be taken in by Samuel’s illusion, but the magician too. For now at least.
“Freeze,” Haskins called. He had his gun trained on me as he peered over the hood of the limo. “Oh, it’s you, Rook” he said, before lowering his weapon.
“You saw past the illusion,” I said.
“I’ve spent most my life trying to see through people’s bullshit, so don't look so surprised. Where are your buddies?”
“On the roof, they'll be making their way down through the auction house while I work my way up. You in?”
“I guess. I sent for backup but my team's already up to their necks in it. This is the day from hell.”
“Then it’s time to send the devil packing,” I said. “You hold back a minute or two.” I strode to the main doors. They were locked. I cupped my hand against the tinted glass and peered inside.
Two thugs stood at a receptionist’s desk with a bottle of champagne poking out of an ice bucket beside them, no doubt from the soiree upstairs. Both looked soused as they glanced my way. One strode toward me, his gun raised. I looked back at him like he was nothing and gestured for him to open the door. He did but blocked my path. “Who the fuck are you?” he asked, his breath sour with booze.
“Let me in you prick. I’ve done my circuit, the targets are down.”
“Down? You sure?”
“Yeah, the sniper capped 'em. Now are you going to let me in or am I going to have to knock your fucking teeth down your throat?” I stared as he opened the door wider, muttered, and wandered back to the counter. One brief introduction to the butt of my gun was enough to knock him out cold and he fell before the other could reach for his weapo
n.
Gunfire thundered above us, distracting me. When I glanced back to the thug at the desk he’d armed himself.
“Put it down-” Haskins’ warning was cut short as the thug’s gun roared. His bullet whizzed past my head and took out the glass pane behind me. Haskins and I returned fire. I wasn’t sure which of our rounds hit first, but the thug’s face exploded into red mush and what was left of him slumped over the counter.
“Not quite the stealthy entrance I was planning,” I said, as I made my way through the foyer. There was a bank of three elevators next to a stairway. I grabbed a handful of crystals from my pocket and soaked up their magic. Haskins watched with a scowl, but he left it there.
“Ready?” I asked, as the power jolted through me. He nodded, and we began to climb, until a series of heavy footsteps clattered on the stairs above us.
Three armed thugs rounded the landing, semi automatics raised. I forced a steady, focused calm over myself and fired. I took one down and then the other, while Haskins’ gun blazed beside me, felling the third. We stepped over the corpses and spent cartridges and bounded up the next flight as the door burst open on the upper landing. A blinkered with a cruel face and bored, languid eyes appeared. He had a gun clamped to the side of a young woman’s head and the dark streaks of mascara that ran down her cheeks matched her dress.
“Drop the guns,” the man said with an almost listless drawl. I faced him down as the crystal’s magic ripped through my system, and tried to hold him in my unsteady sights.
My dark other’s power had guided bullets in the past. Want to do it again? I asked. He ignored me, but I let it go. I focused the crystal’s magic and tried to draw on my own untapped powers. They'd been hidden deep within me but they were there alright; I’d felt them stirring since my clash with Talamos Gin.
The man shot at me. I ignored the flash and report of his weapon and returned fire, clipping him in the shoulder and punching him back into the wall behind him. Before he could recover, I strode up the stairs and shot point blank. I could have spared him but I’d seen the inherent cruelty in his eyes and had decided the world would be safer without him.
“Please,” the woman began to sob, “my husband’s in there. They have them…”
“How many gunmen?”
“Ten, mmm…maybe more.”
“Don’t worry, we’ve got this.” I turned to Haskins. “Can you get her to safety?”
“What about the other goons?” he asked.
“We can handle it. Cover the street in case any more show up.”
Haskins nodded, reached for the trembling woman and led her down the stairs. It sounded, from the low chatter of voices and occasional cries and yelps, like the auction room was on the next floor. The ultra keen sense of purpose and focus was still with me, at least until red light flared as the wyvern struck the tinted glass window outside. Its flaming claws sank into the side of the building and its smoldering eyes found mine.
I’d been discovered. The magician had seen through my illusion.
I ran, taking two steps at a time and hurtled up to the next landing. It ended in an antique wooden door with an ornate brass plaque to one side. I shoved it open and entered a long banquet room with round tables covered with white tablecloths and candles that threw an eerie light over the faces of the people gathered around them.
The men wore tuxes and had the imperious look of old and new money while the women wore little black numbers. The lady closest to me looked sick and I noticed her pearls were flecked with blood. Beside each table the magician’s men loomed, their guns pointed at the hostages’ heads, their eyes locked onto mine.
“Morgan Rook!” A voice called. I followed it to the stage where the magician stood behind a podium with his glowing staff, as if he was the emcee. An orb shimmered in his hand and I guessed it was the scrying glass he’d been using to track me through his fiery familiar’s eyes. Slowly, he aimed the long scepter-like rod my way and before I could move, he cried out a word of power.
45
I gathered my coat around me as a bolt of fire flew from the magician’s wand and hit me dead on. Screams from the guests filled the air. I crouched, waiting for the flames to subside, and once they had I stood, untouched.
“Those are some powerful rags you got there,” the magician said.
“Release the hostages.” I stared into his wild eyes as they gleamed by the candlelight. “Now.”
He laughed. I didn’t blame him. It wasn’t like I had an edge on the situation. I glanced past him as something moved in the shadows. Astrid? Samuel? I hoped so. “I’m serious. If you want to live then let these people go.”
“You got lucky at the armory” the magician said. “We weren’t expecting anyone else to be there.”
“Yeah, a dwarf and a shopkeeper against three werewolves and a fire magician,” I said, “sounds like a lame joke.”
“You’ve had your fun, Mr. Rook.” The magician gazed behind me. “But now you’ll see what happens when you fuck with me.”
“That was your last chance to live,” I said.
“Your friends helped before.” The magician raised his staff. “But now you’re alone.”
“Oh, I’m never alone,” I said. “Believe me.” I watched as Astrid slipped from the darkness backstage and before his men could react or warn him, she had a knife at his jugular. “See,” I said, as the magician’s eyes widened. I turned to the thugs at the tables. “Release the hostages and throw your guns down. Now.”
They stared in silence, some scowled, but none disarmed or made a move. It seemed they had no loyalty to the magician, only to themselves. One raised a gun and fired. The round was stopped by my coat, but I fought to catch my breath as I returned fire, taking the side of his head off.
I glanced back as another thug jolted in his seat and slumped dead to the floor. Samuel stepped from the shadows in the back of the room, just long enough for me to see him notching another arrow.
“Take that fucking coat off,” a goon at a nearby table yelled. The back of his hand looked like a twitching mosaic of tattoos as it gripped a young woman’s slender throat. In his other hand was a hunting knife, its tip poised under her eye. “Do it!”
I stared him down, willing my dark other to meet his gaze and scramble his resolve with a dose of fear.
Nothing.
I was about to take a shot, when the lady in his grip screamed, shoved his arm away and tried to run. He threw the knife. It struck her in the back with a sickening thump. The thug grinned as he leaned over to retrieve his weapon and as he rose an arrow head passed through his trachea, stealing his breath. His eyes widened, as he scrambled to pull it from his neck, then he toppled over.
There were only five of the thugs left, but they were panicking, big league. “Back off or I’ll fucking shoot him!” one yelled as he jumped up from his table, his gun clamped against an old man’s head. The others rose around him and made similar threats, but I saw them scanning the darkness in the corners of the room, nervously.
That’s right. Beware of the shadows. Always.
I took one down with a single shot and was about to eliminate another when I saw him glance to the stage behind me. Astrid still had the magician in her grip, but his lips were moving. He was casting a spell but she hadn’t noticed. “Astrid!” I cried.
The doors blew open and dazzling bright red light drenched the room as the wyvern stormed in. It turned and shot toward the stage, illuminating Samuel as he aimed his bow at the magician. Gunfire roared as thugs took pot shots at him but Samuel ran low, vanishing into what was left of the gloom. The wyvern wheeled and soared toward me and I dropped to my knees as it shot overhead.
Astrid released the magician and rolled away before the wyvern could strike and it became tangled in the long curtains that framed the stage, igniting them as it flailed. It seemed to be independent of its master’s control, making it more dangerous than ever.
I fired at the magician as he stooped amid the smoke to
recover his staff but the round went wide and he scampered backstage. I ducked as the wyvern flew across the room, its fiery claws raking at a hostage as she tried to flee for the door. Flames engulfed her dress and she howled in pain and terror. I ran to her, wrenched my coat off and used it to smother the flames then I scanned the crowd for the remaining criminals as the hostages began to flee.
The thugs were all down, some by arrow others by dagger but there was no sign of the magician. Donning my coat, I ran toward the stage. On the wall beside it were two fire extinguishers. I grabbed one, doused the flames as best I could and spun around as the wyvern hurtled my way.
I stood my ground and gave it a blast from the canister, snuffing out one of its wings. It roared as it lost control and crashed to the floor, and then it rose straight up and began to hobble toward me. I pulled the mhudambe blade from its sheath and slashed at the wyvern’s head. It tore through its fiery skull and the flames that formed it withered away around the wound as the beast reared up.
Before it could spring I lunged at its flaming throat. It gave a strange, eerie cry and collapsed to the floor in a smoldering heap. I blasted it with the extinguisher, before tossing it over to Samuel. “Put the fires out,” I called as I sheathed the knife and ran across the stage in the direction the magician had fled. At the back of the smoky prop room, amid easels and stands, I found a door. I kicked it open onto a stairwell and a trail of sooty footprints led up. I followed them floor after floor, until they vanished at a barred emergency exit. My intuition told me opening the door would be a bad idea. But I had no choice.
I slammed the bar down, stepped out and ducked as a bolt of fire hurtled toward me. It struck the wall as I pulled my gun, fired into the darkness and stumbled out onto the rooftop.
Another bolt roared from the gloom, hitting me square in the chest, knocking me down. I rolled, quenching the flames, and glanced up to see the magician looming over me. I tried to stand as his staff rose and eldritch blue light glowed at its tip. He struck me in the face with the blunt end and the stony asphalt bit into my palms as I fell back on the rooftop.
